


Sky Blossoms at First Light

by storyspinner70



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Army, Blood and Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Marine Corps, Military, Prisoner of War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyspinner70/pseuds/storyspinner70
Summary: Jeffrey Dean Morgan was career Army through and through. So much so that if he'd suddenly started bleeding Army green, no one would have been the slightest bit surprised. So when he disappears and is accused of deserting his post, it seems more than a little suspicious.Jensen Ackles is a Marine with a love for the service and a soft spot for an Army Colonel who saved him when he was young and none of Jeffrey's business. When he gets a strange letter from Jeff right before Jeff goes missing, there's only one thing for him to do.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 8
Kudos: 213





	Sky Blossoms at First Light

**A/N:** This was an outstanding prompt and I was super excited about getting it - it was my first choice! Make sure you give [blondebitz](https://blondebitz.livejournal.com/) all the love and affection you have for her amazing art! Click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285436) or [here](https://blondebitz.livejournal.com/484657.html)! But wait! Before you go, make sure you come back to read our story!! Speaking of the story, thank god for my editor who does more comma wrangling than a cowboy moving a herd. Also...for some background on what I used to come up with the details of this story and some of the stuff I learned through research, check the notes at the end.

 **Also, also:** Sky blossoms are deployed parachutes, and First Light is when the sun is roughly twelve degrees below the horizon

**Ages (as of 2009 when the story is set) and Ranks of everyone:**

**Jensen** \- 31 Years Old - 13 years in the Marines - 1st Sergeant (FORECON) **|** **Jared** \- 27 Years Old - 7 years in the Marines - Sergeant (FORECON) **|** **Chris** \- 27 Years Old - 9 years in the Marines - Gunnery Sergeant (FORECON) **|** **Tahmoh** \- 34 Years Old - 15 years in the Army - Staff Sergeant (Delta Force) **|** **Felicia** \- 30 Years Old - 11 years in the Army - Sergeant (Special Forces Communications) **|** **JDM** \- 43 Years Old - 25 years in the Army - Colonel

****Sky Blossoms at First Light** **

It’s amazing what you can block out. Mortar fire. Bombs. Screaming. Your mind gets used to them all - sometimes quicker than you’re absolutely comfortable with. _Boom. Boom._ The ground shakes and your mind and feet calibrate themselves - shifting in real time to steady you and continue you on your current path; alarm bells silent for the moment.

It’s like when lightning would streak across the night sky when you were little and you’d count… one mississippi, two mississippi… and you knew without a shadow of a doubt from the rumble and crack of thunder alone that you were safe. Science and faith and instinct all rolled up together.

The pop of gunfire sounds a lot like fireworks after a while. The rumble and whine of armored vehicles fade into so much white noise. Aircraft aren’t around long enough to distract you all that much in any case. Not this far behind the line. Not yet anyway.

And then all that’s left is a buzzing in your blood and the crinkle of paper in your hands - an honest to god handwritten note on a sheet of notebook paper so thin you could have read it from the other side. You fold the paper again, carefully, quietly, but the buzzing doesn’t stop. It only becomes louder when you finally get the news you dreaded drowning out the slam of your pulse and the gasping of your breath.

Jeffery Dean Morgan deserted his post five months and twenty five days ago and hadn’t been seen since. They stopped searching for him after forty five days. A single month and a half.

But you’ve got a paper in your pocket covered in a spidery scrawl that tells a different story and a grasping in your lungs that won’t seem to let up. _They_ might not be looking anymore, but you haven’t even started.

When you head out less than ten hours later, you aren’t 100% sure you’re ever going to be coming back. You’re burning more than one bridge right now, but there’s not a single second of regret.

You might not be able to call yourself a marine when all of this is over, but you will always be certain you did the best you could to be one hell of a friend.

If there was one thing Jensen Ackles knew, it was that Jared Padalecki absolutely despised jumping out of planes.

“It’s not the falling,” Jared said _almost every time_ , “it’s the goddamn waiting. You’re just standing there wondering if you’re gonna touch down anywhere near the drop site or if you’ll actually break something this time when you do finally land. It’s nerve wracking. You know?”

Jensen did know. Knew more than Jared, as a matter of fact. He’d been in the Marines almost twice as long as Jared at this point. Jared went to college for a couple of years before deciding the military was where he belonged. Jensen hadn’t even given more schooling a second thought. 

He’d signed up the day after he turned eighteen and he’d made a life of it ever since.

 _Well._ Until now, that is. He was more than likely looking down the barrel of a court martial when he made it back. He couldn’t say he was all that sad about it to be honest. Especially if he found proof that what JDM had told him was true.

He glanced over at Jared fidgeting on the bench beside him and reconsidered just a little. He _was_ sorry that Jared was probably going to be out of a career after this, too. That Chris was going to get booted out of the perfectly regimented life he loved so much.

He wished he’d been strong enough to say no to Jared and stick to it; probably could have done it with Chris without even blinking, but ultimately didn’t really see the point when there wasn’t a chance he’d ever be able to do the same with Jared. And wouldn’t Chris have had a field day with that? He wouldn’t have let Jensen live that down for even one second of the rest of their short military career. Probably would have done his best to grind it in after, as well.

Saying no to Jared hadn’t been something Jensen had been able to do consistently since like the second day he met Jared, so there wasn’t any point in trying now. Not when Jared smiled at him - teeth sharp and dimples deep, sweat soaked skin gleaming in the sunshine. Jensen would do anything for that smile. The sly softness in Jared’s slow wink proved without a doubt that he knew it, too.

Jensen nodded toward the open door and raised his brows. “Almost at the drop zone.”

“Thank god,” Jared said, then he was off, his ranting about unnecessarily stressful airborne operations continuing right up to the moment he stepped out of the plane.

Jensen could only stare as Jared talked, praying with everything he had that nothing happened to any of them - before or after the mission.

Tahmoh Penikett had been a soldier for a long time and a Delta Force operator for almost as long. He’d seen operations come and go, but he’d never expected to be part of a hostage extraction mission quite like this. Sure, they hadn’t thought a thing about the reconnaissance mission to find POWs, but usually they found them, evaluated threat levels and went on their merry way to something else that needed their particular set of skills while less specialized troops liberated the prisoners.

The presence of two high ranking Army soldiers at the prison camp though had changed everything. One served at the same outpost as the prisoner they had been sent to find, and the other one wasn’t supposed to even be in the country. That raised a hell of a lot more than a couple red flags.

When a handful of Marine special ops forces descended from nowhere and demanded to be part of the extraction team, it was pretty clear something unusual was going on. There was a lot of yelling at first, but a proffered copy of a single sheet of paper was all it took to ensure complete silence.

“Are you sure about this?” The General asked quietly.

“I staked my life on it,” the Marine replied in kind. “I’m dead sure.”

“Let’s hope not, son.” The General regarded the Marine for a moment. “Be ready to go at 0400. My assistant will find a place for you. If you’ll excuse me, the operator and I have much to discuss. Dismissed.”

The Marines saluted and left.

The General shared only the barest details from the letter the Marine gave him, but it was enough. Tahmoh was no stranger to threat, but this time, the danger came from inside his own house.

Sleep that night was a long time coming.

First light came just as early in Afghanistan as it did anywhere else. Breakfast was a quiet affair, low murmurs from soldiers wondering why the hell three Marines were eating up their supplies; silence from the Marines.

It would take less than an hour to get to the drop zone then another two hours to travel to the area around the outpost that Jeff disappeared from. The Army special ops operator leading the extraction and a tactical specialist soldier would head to the outpost to scout there under the pretense of being on an unrelated clandestine ops mission while Jensen, Jared and Chris mostly made themselves scarce until Tahmoh and Felicia returned.

Jensen, of course, had no plans to twiddle his thumbs until they got back. He understood they were looking for proof of what Jeff had claimed, but enough time had passed as it was. Jensen had no choice but to wait; he wasn’t privy to all of the intelligence he would need to find Jeff. He’d simply have to make good use of the time the soldiers were gone to keep himself sane.

All of them made it relatively near the drop zone and landed in good shape. Their intelligence held and they met no opposing troops that they weren’t able to avoid. The group split; the marines heading to a bombed out area that had been deserted for some time.

They made quick work of securing the area, ducking through the rubble to ensure they were completely alone. Jensen stood in the skeleton of a ruined house and wondered idly if Jeff had traveled this same area, unsure of exactly which way Jeff would have gone; attempting to plot it out in his head.

Chris signaled that he was taking watch. Jensen and Jared needed to rest. They’d all need their strength for what was to come.

Rage was a funny thing, though. One moment, Jensen was surveying his surroundings and making plans for the upcoming mission and the next he was choking with anger and disgust. His pulse was pounding in his throat and at his temples and he was gritting his teeth tight enough they squeaked as they ground together. His fingernails dug into his palms.

“Jack,” Jared said quietly. “Jack you can’t go out there like this.”

“Then fix it,” Jensen spat.

Jared smiled - the barest twitch of his soft pink mouth that said, _I know_ , _I’m here_ and _what are you going to do if he’s already dead_ all at once - then stepped deeper into the shadows of the ruins and waited. Jensen followed like the trained monkey Jared had made him into, fury roiling under his skin.

“You know how important Jeff is to me,” Jensen said as he dropped his pack and then searched through it, standing quickly and spinning Jared away from him. “You know what the Army means to him.”

Jared was silent, his own gear at his feet and his hand on his fly.

“They said he deserted,” Jensen bit out, his voice low and shaking as he ripped open his pants and reached for his dick.

Jared lowered his fatigues and braced himself, Jensen’s home and his counselor and his punching bag and his future all rolled up into one living breathing man. It was what they were. It was what they did. It was the only thing, sometimes, that got them through the night and back into the daylight.

Jensen slicked up and slid home without pausing - the low grunting whine Jared gave echoing in his head as he dug his fingernails into Jared’s hips.

Jeff deserved more than to be called a coward. He deserved more than a five man extraction team, one of whom was disgusted by the fact that even in the middle of all the chaos he’d remembered to pack fucking lube because no matter how much Jeff meant to him - no matter that Jeff has saved his fucking life when he was new and soft and none of Jeff’s concern, no matter that Jeff was probably being tortured or was already dead - Jared would always mean that little bit more.

And Jared.

Jensen stilled. Noticed the bombed out floor with stains that could be blood or viscera or just fucking dirt and decay and dust - unrecognizable as a place where people used to live. He saw the rubble Jared was braced against, nothing much left to crumble or shift or fall.

He caught his breath.

Jared deserved the world. Not this.

He rested his face on Jared’s shoulder, Jared’s hole pulsing around his cock, Jared’s breath choppy but as quiet as he could make it. Jensen ran his hand over his chin and his eyes, tears he’d never even noticed wetting his fingers and his skin.

“Jensen,” Jared said softly. His name. Not Jack. Not darlin’. Not asshole. His name and all the importance that people swore came along with it.

One word. Living rent free on the tongue of the person he loved.

And suddenly, that’s where Jensen wanted to be - all tied up in Jared’s bones and muscles and blood - dug in so deep into Jared they’d never be separate again. So he set his teeth to the edge of Jared’s shoulder and he pushed. Pushed and pulled until Jared was in pieces with only a shattered wall and Jensen to keep him together.

Pushed and pulled until the anger dulled and the guilt receded. Just a little bit. Just for now.

Jensen coming felt like flying apart and he stayed where he was long after it became uncomfortable, just listening to Jared breathe.

When night fell, it felt like rain.

Jensen hadn’t expected to see Jeff in a cage out in the middle of the compound. He hadn’t expected to see him in a cage that was too small for him to stand or stretch out in. He hadn’t expected to see him in tattered fatigues and a tee with no shelter from the elements in December in Afghanistan.

He was relieved to see him at all.

Tahmoh had briefed them more thoroughly when he and Felicia had returned - treating the Marines like his own team, knowing they had the skills to do whatever was needed. He would take point in actually getting Jeff out; Jensen was lead on making sure they actually made it out and the Haqqani had a very bad day. He rarely missed a moving target, and he was more motivated than usual, anyway.

Oh, yeah. They were going to have a very, very bad day.

Jared and Chris and Felicia would make sure no one slipped by them or were able to tip the Army officers that they were on to them and to take care of anyone that Jensen might miss. Jared and Chris had the weapons and the deadly accuracy and Felicia had the technology to make sure everything went to plan.

But really.

When did anything ever go to plan?

Jeffrey Dean Morgan loved the Army. He loved the rules and the strict, regimented life. He could have been an officer long ago if he’d wanted; had been offered a commission more than once. But he hadn’t been interested. He’d loved that he was boots to the ground. That he got his hands dirty in the fight for what was right.

But sometimes, not everything was right.

People fought wars sometimes for reasons that had nothing to do with the patriotic stories they fed their people. And sometimes even if the wars were for good reason, not everyone was there to protect democracy and freedom. Some people were just geared to take what they wanted wherever they found it.

Jeff had become jaded the last few years. He knew that and he’d kept it to himself the best he could. But when he’d stumbled onto proof that things weren’t quite right at the outpost where he was stationed, he’d just about had enough.

It had taken him weeks to uncover exactly what was going on and to find enough proof that someone might actually listen to him. He knew the General at the nearest command post and was certain that if he could just get to him, the General would get to the bottom of things and take care of the problem.

The problem was getting to the General alive. He’d seen the looks he’d been getting and he knew he was running out of time. One “stray” shot during the next firefight and he’d be dead - if they even waited that long.

So Jeff wrote two letters - both to Jensen Ackles - both mailed in different ways, just in case - the only person he knew that wasn’t in the Army and that he could trust - then he set out for the command post. Ten hours in, he was captured by opposing forces and his nightmare began.

Torture was used for a lot of things in wartime situations - to get information, to assure compliance, to make a point. The Geneva Conventions did what they could, but even the states weren’t 100% concerned about their rules when it came right down to it. You did what you had to do - no matter what side of the torture you were on.

Jeff had been beaten so much he’d begun to lose large chunks of time and struggled some days to remember the exact details of how he’d even ended up in a cage he couldn’t stand up or stretch out in. Eventually, they grew tired of him. He waited in anticipation for every day to be his last, but they took to mostly neglecting him and giving him just enough food and water to keep him alive.

Not long after he’d been captured, two Army officers showed up, presumably to make sure he was indeed in captivity. They’d argued with the Haqqani about killing Jeff, but had stopped abruptly when the locals made it very clear they were keeping him alive until they had no further use for him and that there were new terms for all of their deals moving forward because of that fact. 

Blackmail was one of the international languages, after all. The soldiers eventually left and Jeff stayed and lived. Barely.  
About six months in, the barest rustle of movement to his left was the only hint he got that his captivity was about to come to an end.

Jensen must have gotten his letters, after all. 

There was something beautiful in death and destruction at times. A shimmer of satisfaction glinting off all the horror and ugliness. The thump of your heart when you realize the undeniable fact that any of us are capable of anything if the situation is just exactly the right one.

Jensen had been there before, of course, but never quite like this. Jared and Chris weren’t as invested in Jeff and whether he lived or died, but they were invested in Jensen. Jensen could tell in the way they flanked his every move, seamless and smooth like a beautiful, deadly dance.

He could see it in the sharp, manic glint in Chris’ eye when he was driven to the ground with a bullet in his leg only to tie it off and get right back up again, his face stone cold and determined.

He could see it in the way Jared’s eyes flew to him when Jared got shot in the shoulder - his face telegraphing a thousand things to Jensen at once. _I’m fine. This hurts like fuck. Focus on what’s important. Kill the asshole that shot me while I readjust. I’m fine. We’re fine._

He could feel the air thicken up around him, could hear screaming and gunfire and the sound of Felicia doing her job. Could see how deadly and sure she was, how set Chris was, how Jared had grown cold and quiet in a way he almost never was.

Tahmoh and Jeff were long gone - Jeff slung over Tahmoh’s shoulder as he fought their way out of the camp and closer to the landing zone, relying on Jensen to pick off anyone that tried to follow.

They were decimating the Haqqani forces one by one, making sure every avenue for them to follow or flank was blocked. There was gunfire and screaming and grenades and Jensen didn’t hear any of it. He was narrowed in on the spray of red that soaked the air and let him know there was one less threat.

Jared pressed briefly to Jensen’s cheek and he immediately ducked for cover and paid attention. Jared directed him to Felicia, who signaled that they needed to head to the landing zone. The Haqqani were too many for them to completely defeat and were a two fold threat - they could make it impossible for the four of them to make the landing zone at all in time for extraction or they could follow them and make it impossible for any of them to get out.

If they were lucky, they could lay enough suppressive fire that it would take the Haqqani a few precious minutes to realize they were no longer firing back. This area in Afghanistan offered little in the way of vegetative cover, but they had carefully planned with that in mind.

Chris opened his mouth, and Jensen knew what he was going to say clearer than if Chris was wearing a flashing neon sign. _He was hurt. He was going to stay behind so he didn’t slow them down. He’d be fine. They could come back for him._

Jensen shook his head once.

Chris gritted his teeth, but nodded.

They moved out.

The sound of aircraft had never been Jensen’s favorite thing until now.

Five hours in the barren landscape of Afghanistan fighting and avoiding enemy forces was more than enough for Jensen right then. He was anxious to see Jeff alive again with his own eyes. To check over Jared and Chris’ wounds even though they had the same medical knowledge he did. 

They’d arrived at the landing zone, only to find churned ground and no Tahmoh or Jeff. They’d immediately been on the offensive and ended up in a firefight against a small band of forces that had, from what it looked like, just stumbled upon the landing zone.

They lingered after the fight to see if the gunfire had drawn more enemy soldiers and if Tahmoh or Jeff were to be found close by. When no one else appeared, they carefully made their way to the secondary landing point.

Tahmoh and Jeff were right where they were supposed to be. All they had to do was wait, stay hidden and hope no one else came along.

For once, luck was on their side.

Like most things, in the end it had all come down to money. A bunch of people found an easy way to make money - they’d sell military fuel to the locals and no one would be the wiser. A completely victimless crime and a pretty benign way to earn a few extra bucks.

When that wasn’t enough, they started selling American military weapons, as well. They’d shift them a few at a time - a gun or two misplaced from here to there from each outpost or base and there was more than enough to go around. They had buyers from Iran and Pakistan and even farther away, and though it was more lucrative, it became trickier the farther the news spread.

It had only been a matter of time before the conflict ended or someone found out. Jeff had just been the not so lucky one to uncover their operation.

He’d loved the Army for most of the 25 years he’d been in it, but the months he spent in the hospital after his captivity had pretty much had him rethinking his goal to make the service his entire life.

Tahmoh had basically hopped off one aircraft and jumped onto another, heading to the outpost where Jeff had been stationed to rejoin his team and bring the situation to an end. They’d tracked down the latest shipment of weapons, dismantled the entire pipeline and made a lot of people very, very unhappy.

Of the two men who tried to have Jeff killed, one was in custody and one was dead - he’d been less than interested in spending the rest of his life in a military prison. Tahmoh was happy to oblige him.

When Jensen’s Commander had shown up in the hospital, he found Jensen where he’d been for almost two weeks - planted squarely in the middle of a hospital room listening to Chris and Jared bitch about just how crappy physical therapy was. He wasn’t exactly pleased but he was quick to let them know they were all cleared of any wrong doing and would be expected back on duty as soon as possible. Chris was looking forward to it and said so.

Jensen and Jared had made the decision days ago that no matter what happened, they were done with the military. They let the man know they’d be happy to finish out what they owed their country, but when their enlistments were over, they’d have decline another. Jensen would have sworn on his own mama’s sweet Texas heart that there was relief in his Commander’s eyes when he heard that, though he did an excellent job of pretending to hate to lose them.

They stuck around for the trial, then went back to their team to finish out their enlistments. Jensen could still see Jeff as he stood in the courtroom - too thin, too stooped and with way too many shadows in his eyes. But he was alive. And Jensen? Jensen was at peace.

It was a very good day.

Jensen had picked up Jared from the airport two days ago - his enlistment was finally up - and Jensen had the bite marks to prove it. They’d spent the majority of those two days getting reacquainted and had only dragged themselves out of bed when Jeff called to warn them he was nearby and _would they detach and put some clothes on, please_.

Jensen had laughed, jostling Jared where his cock was still lodged deep inside and had been since long before he’d stopped and answered the phone. Jared glared at him and gave an outraged grunt before he grabbed the phone, hung it up and threw it across the room. Jensen laughed again, low and dark before he pounded into Jared double time until he came, pulling out and leaving Jared hard and gasping then going to wash off and get dressed.

“Hate you so fucking much,” Jared repeated as he jacked himself off making sure to come all over Jensen’s side of the bed. “So fucking much.”

“No you don’t,” Jensen said around the toothbrush in his mouth. “You love me.”

Jared just scoffed and stepped in for a quick shower. He was just buttoning his shirt when the door bell rang.

Jeff was still thin, but he looked healthy and strong. The months in recovery - and the Army - had been kind to him. Jensen wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him in anything but fatigues, but the worn jeans and soft t-shirt suited him just as well as the uniform had. He was going to stay for three days, looking around at farms and land and a new place to be, but that turned into three weeks, and then three months.

They were sitting on the porch on a cool Texas evening right before dusk. The sun was starting to sink lower in the sky when one of Jensen’s longtime friends “dropped by for a visit”. Her name was Hilarie and she put a spark in Jeff’s heart that he hadn’t felt in years.

If he accepted a little too quickly when she offered to show him around the very same town that Jensen and Jared had taken him to just the day before, no one was rude enough to mention it. And if he took a little bit more care with his appearance the day she came to pick him up, no one called him out on that fact, either.

It’s amazing what you can get used to. Crickets sound like the whistle of artillery shells sometimes when it’s too quiet everywhere else. The screaming of children remind you of things you don’t ever want to remember but can’t seem to forget. The sound of a truck on the highway is a little too light, a little out of place.

Then you realize - it’s not out of place. _You’re_ not out of place. You’re on a porch with a beer and two people who know exactly how you feel.

And there’s a buzz in your ears that turns out to be a honeybee and your heart pounds in your chest every time you think about how close you were to losing Jeff. _Jared._

But they’re here. You’re here. And Chris is happy and doing what he loves and emailing you every time he gets the chance.

You wonder where Felicia is embedded right now and what Tahmoh is doing and how unsafe he is, and you send luck and good wishes into the atmosphere and hope they find them whole and well.

You rest your hand on your pocket, just so you can hear the crinkle of the note you still keep close by - just for a moment. And maybe Jeff tears up the fourth time he sees you do it and finally realizes what it is what you’re doing. And maybe Jared gets up and leaves the two of you alone for a few. 

Maybe one day the crickets just sound like crickets and kids playing won’t make you flinch to your very soul. And maybe, when the sun slants warmly off the longest stretch of grass you ever walked across as an adult without having to worry about whether you're going to be able to hide in it, you realize you’re okay.

You realize you’re all finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> JDM is loosely based on a real person. Beaudry Robert "Bowe" Bergdahl is a US Army soldier who was held captive from 2009 to 2014 by the Taliban-aligned Haqqani network in Afghanistan and Pakistan. He was the last captive American soldier from the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan and was freed in exchange for five Taliban prisoners. Whether he deserted (as was the most common assertion) or was trying to get to a command post to see a General about issues he saw with the leadership where he was stationed (also a pretty common assertion) is still a much contested fact. Bergdahl disappeared on June 30, 2009, from Combat Outpost Mest-Lalak in Afghanistan’s Paktika Province.
> 
> I had JDM disappear from the same Outpost at the same time. They searched for him the same length of time as they did the real soldier and he was captured by the same network. I took the idea that Bergdahl left because of problems with leadership and ran with that idea. JDM is Army like Bergdahl. J2 and Chris are Marines, not soldiers - the artwork was based around the amazing FORECON special ops teams, but I kept JDM a soldier to hold on to some little bit of realism from the story I co-opted. That's why Tahmoh is a Delta Force operator and Felicia is a soldier, as well. 
> 
> JDM and Jensen have history - branches of the military are often entrenched together. Jeff helped Jensen out when he was pretty new to the service and they kept in touch despite one being a soldier and one a marine. When Jeff found out things were looking mighty shady in his Army, he sent word to the only person he could fully trust - Jensen.
> 
> JDM’s Company: Blackfoot Company, 1st Battalion, 501st Infantry Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team (Airborne), 25th Infantry Division - called "the tip of the spear" and "the most potent and tactically mobile of the U.S. Army's divisions". 
> 
> Story is set during Operation Enduring Freedom IX-X in Afghanistan.
> 
> Afghanistan - Avg Weather in December: Daily high temperatures decrease to 46°F, rarely falling below 37°F or exceeding 62°F. Daily low temperatures decrease to 26°F, rarely falling below 18°F or exceeding 37°F.
> 
> Sunrise in the Paktika Province on 12/26/2009: 7:11am First Light (roughly 70 minutes before sunrise): 6:01am
> 
> There was real crime in Afghanistan, though I had it escalate far beyond just selling fuel to Afghan locals.


End file.
